


Surely You Know Such Things Do Not Exist?

by rougefox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: BAMF Mama Sansa, F/M, Halloween, Horror, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9107140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougefox/pseuds/rougefox
Summary: Living in a tower far in the North, Sansa finds herself protecting her children from a terror out of Old Nan's stories.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 years after AFFC Sandor and Sansa live in a tower house on the Gift with four children. After Sansa's husband takes her son with him to answer a summons from the Nights Watch, strange things begin to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's the holiday season..... have some horror!

 

 

_".... and bastards like you all wind up on the Wall, watching for grumkins and snarks and all the other monsters your wet nurse told you about. The good part is there are no grumkins or snarks, so it's scarcely dangerous work."_

_-Tyrion Lannister to Jon Snow, Game of Thrones._

 

 

 

 

The tapping started the first night after Sandor left. Sansa first heard it down by the base of tower while she fed the children dinner. As the night went on it slowly made itself up the walls till around the hour of the wolf it vanished into the attic.

 

 

The noise was a whisper of a hard point hitting the dense stone of the walls, almost completely muffled by the hiss and pop of the fire in the hearth.

 

 

The second night the tapping was back, only this time it was on the old oak front door and the wood framing around the windows.

 

 

The third night Sansa could no longer ignore it or blame it on the wind. There was no doubt; something was tapping on the metal hinges of the front door and the lead seams of the windows on the second floor.

 

 

On the fourth night, Sansa moved the children from their rooms down to the windowless ground floor.

 

 

“We’re going to have a party in front of the hearth,” she told them before locking the bedroom doors when they weren't looking.

 

 

The twins aged five and the youngest age three, did not suspecting anything. They laughed while telling stories by the hearth before snuggling down into a nest of furs on the stone floor and falling asleep with no worries. Sansa stayed awake, feeding the fire and drinking the last of the tea Ser Davos had given them as a wedding present.

 

 

In the silence of the night, she heard the unmistakable sound of tapping on the glass of the windows in the rooms above her.


	2. Chapter 2

_"And the grumkins and snarks," Tyrion said. "Let us not forget them, Lord Snow, or else what's that big thing for?"_

_-Game of Thrones_

 

 

 

 

It was Elinor who found the tracks in the snow on the morning of the fifth day.

 

 

 

She called to Sansa as she stood by the wood piled next to the door; “Mother look! A big bird was out here!”

 

 

 

The snow that been falling since the morning of Sandor and Daemon’s departure had finally stopped.  The air was cold and made them all rosy cheeked with great plumes of white breath billowing out of their mouths when they spoke.

 

 

Trudging through the fresh layer of freezing powder Sansa came to her daughter's side and examined her discovery.

 

 

The impressions in the snow were small, about the size of Sansa’s hand. They displayed a short wide foot with four long toes ending in claws that had sunk deep into the snow.

 

 

“Yes darling, those are some bird tracks,” she lied through her teeth, a sick feeling settling into her stomach as she saw the prints continued around the curved base of the tower. “That reminds me, could you please go get me some eggs for breakfast?”

 

 

 

Elinor giggled then ran off to the stone chicken coop next to the stable.

 

 

 

When she was out of sight, Sansa stomped on the ground, distorting the marks in the snow.

 

 

 

She turned to Elinor’s twin brother and called, “Ned! I want you to bring all this wood inside and check on Brie!”

 

 

Much like his name sake, Ned was reserved and took to his task with determination.

 

 

Satisfied with her children’s distraction, Sansa followed the trail around the base of the tower.

 

 

Under the windows she observed the tracks vanished only to start again a few feet away.

 

 

She could see scratches on the stone; four fingers had dug into the mortar by something pulling itself up the tower wall. Sansa suddenly had a memory of Bran's climbing so long ago in Winterfell. Sometimes he would climb up the tower where she was having her lessons with septa Mordane and knock on the window to scare her. Once he had accidentally broken the glass on a particularly cold day.

 

 

"Next time, test the strength of the glass before you knock a hole in it," Theon Greyjoy had smirked at him. "That's what makes the Iron Born such good invaders; we take castles by figuring out where it's weak and striking, not sitting around it like a bunch of girls at a picnic like you green land lords do... ."

 

 

It was at that point Arya threw a rock at him and chaos had erupted.

 

 

Hearing the sound of Elinor’s laughter from the chicken coop brought Sansa back to the present. Shaking the memories from her mind she kicked snow into the tracks.

 

 

_Theon is dead, Arya is gone, Bran is beyond the Wall._

 

 

Sansa formed a plan as she strode to the stable.

 

 

From under the warm straw of the sheep pen, Sansa pulled her husband’s giant dog from its bed. The great beast grumbled it’s annoyance as she led it into the tower.

 

 

** *

 

 

Sandor never let Dog in their home.

 

 

(He had let the children name the great hairy beast, but at the time all but Daemon had a vocabulary limited to “Ma”, “Da” and “No”. So “Dog” it was.)

 

 

“He’s a sheep dog, he belongs outside with the sheep!” her husband had always said.

 

 

But there had been no tracks around the stable, and bereft of her usual guard dog, Sansa felt better with the big beast closer to her children.

 

 

That night there was no tapping. Sansa fell into a deep sleep around the hour of the bat curled around her children in front of the great hearth with Dog snoring by the door.

 

 

Outside the newly resumed falling snow muffled the world in a cold, white blanket.

 

 

** *

 

 

The morning air was crisp and fresh against Sansa’s skin. She had risen before her brood and decided to get her chores done before the children awoke.  Dog trotted beside her as she gathered snow in a bucket to be melted for that day’s water. There were no new tracks around the base of the tower and she let out a calm sigh in the crisp air.

 

 

Then she heard Dog’s frantic barking.

 

 

Sansa sprinted around the bend of the tower to see the great beast standing before the stable.  The wooden door to the stone structure was off its hinges and lay discarded in the snow. Dog was standing a ways from the yawning doorway, drool flying from his mouth as he snarled and barked, showing his long teeth to the dark interior. Sansa passed the dog and leaned into the gloom. The smell of blood and bile hit her so hard she had to take a step back. She swallowed down her fear and forced herself into the stable.

 

 

Inside the smell was overwhelming, Sansa had to cover her nose and mouth with a rag to keep from gagging.

 

 

At first she could see nothing amiss; the horse stalls were empty, the pegs for the horse's tack and the rack for their saddles where all undisturbed. The windows were still shuttered against the cold.

 

 

From outside the structure Sansa could still hear Dog’s barking, now punctuated with a long howl.

 

 

It wasn’t till she made it to the sheep pen did she see the source of the smell. Stifling a scream she hurtled herself away from the sight and flung herself out of the stable onto the cold ground outside. Kneeling in the snow she picked up the broken door and slammed it back onto the frame, desperately willing her fingers to slam the broken hinges back into place.

 

 

Dog was suddenly beside her whining and licking her cold face.

 

 

Looking down, Sansa almost burst into tears; almost obscured by the newly fallen snow where four sets of the clawed tracks leading into the stable, but only three leading out.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_"The Night's Watch defends us all from snarks and grumkins. My lords, I say that we help_ _the brave black brothers."_

 

_-Qyburn A Feast for Crows._

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ordering Dog to stand guard, Sansa quietly slipped into the tower and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

 

 

Metal nails were valuable, as was their iron headed hammer so Sandor kept them in a cupboard under the stairs in the tower.

 

 

Tip-toeing as to not disturb the pups as they slept in a big snuggly heap by the hearth, Sansa retrieved the hardware and the boards left over from when Sandor had fixed the roof of the chicken coop from the cupboard then made her way back out into the yard.

 

 

Dog stood in front of the stable; eyes fixed on the skewed door, his lips pulled back off his long white teeth in a snarl.

 

 

Sansa started with the bottom and one by one, nailed the boards into the wood frame of the stable's doorway. Once finished she stood back and observed her handy work.

 

 

The boards weren’t flush and the nails had gone in crooked where they had run into knots in the wood. But it was solid, it would hold, _it had to_.

 

 

For a moment she wished she could just set the structure on fire. But that would mean having to rebuild it later and technically the tower belonged to the Watch.

 

 

Then again so had the ram, six sheep and the nanny goat, but all that was left of them was bits of torn flesh and scattered bone.

 

 

Sansa tried not to think about the loss; they would have no milk or mutton or wool till they replaced the animals.

 

 

For now though, she only hoped her makeshift barrier would hold till Sandor returned. Sansa had no doubt her husband could deal with the _thing_ she had seen crouching in the straw feeding on what was left of the nanny goat.

 

 

**Two weeks earlier…..**

 

 

Sansa watched her husband shake his head; his long salt and pepper hair swishing on his shoulders.

 

 

“No, he’s still too young,” Sandor said as he sat by a window in their bedroom oiling his chain mail. "Besides the whole reason we live out here at the end of the world is to keep anyone from knowing you two are still alive."

 

 

Sandor’s hair had been raven black when they had been reunited in the Riverlands. He had found her and the Warrior Maid of Tarth hiding with what remained of the Golden Company in the ruins of Harrenhal. Sansa had been heavy with the child of her late husband, Prince Aegon Targaryen, who had flown to Kingslanding on his great green dragon never to return. Sandor had been riding with a band of holy knights battling the Iron Born as they invaded up the Trident using newly designed war ships with flat bottoms that could navigate the shallow waters of the rivers.

 

 

Even though she was far from being the innocent maid he had left in Kingslanding, he had sworn his sword to her and helped her make her way back North. They would have died in the Neck if it hadn’t been for the appearance of Greywater Watch, and never made it to Castle Black if it hadn’t been for the Umbers.

 

 

In the end it had been Jon who saved them all; after they married in the godswood of Last Hearth, he had hid them in one of the towers on the Gift. Her cousin knew all too well the curse of being the son of a fallen Prince and had squirreled them away the best he could so they could live in peace. All he asked in return was for Sandor to heed his call when his sword was needed.

 

 

The raven had come that morning and Sansa knew her husband had to leave.

 

 

Jon was calling as many warriors as he could to Castle Black to assist with escorting the newly arrived Wilding families to settlements along the Gift.

 

 

It was a light duty, Sandor had done it before and the Wildings respected him more than they did most people south of the Wall. This time Sansa desperately wanted her husband to take her oldest child with him.

 

 

“Please, he will be nine soon and needs to know the world outside this tower,” she had pleaded. "It's been so long since the War ended, and the Wildings wont know who he is or care if they did."

 

 

“I know,” Sandor had replied. “He’s quick with a sword and smart, but he needs to stay here and help you with the other wee ones."

 

 

Sansa watched the children out the window; they were throwing snow balls and taunting each other. As by their nature, the twins ganged up on Brie but Daemon always came to her rescue.

 

 

The twins were tall with dark hair and grey eyes; they looked like their father (although Sandor said if the gods were good Elinor would have her mother's nose). Their youngest was named after the Warrior Maid and had her mother’s eyes and red hair. She was a meek little thing that hated the cold and would hide behind her mother’s skirts when she couldn’t duck behind her father’s thick legs.

 

 

Daemon was lucky enough to not have the obvious Targaryen silver hair; it was as dark as Jon’s and only his amethyst eyes gave away his linage.

 

 

Sandor was the only father Daemon had ever known and he worshiped the ground he walked upon. He had begged his mother to ask if he could join Sandor when he left to answer Jon’s summons.

 

 

Sansa tried again; “If I need help Brienne and Tormund are just a half days walk from here.” They were the only people close to them, the nearest settlement was almost a week away on a good horse.

 

 

“Are you sure they haven’t been summoned also?” Sandor countered.

 

 

That had happened before, and she hadn’t seen Brienne in almost six months. With Sansa relatively safe and secure, the Warrior Maid had been talking about going to Essos to find Arya. Sansa never found out if Brienne had actually left.

 

 

Finally Sansa tried one last argument; “You should enjoy this time with him now. Soon he will be old enough to know everything and hate us both.”

 

 

Sandor had chuckled at that and finally acquiesced.

 

 

Daemon had been so happy he was practically bouncing in the saddle of Sansa’s horse as they rode off days later.

 

 

Two turns of the moon. That was how long the letter said he would be needed. Two weeks if the weather wasn't bad to Castle Black, a moons turn to escort the Wildings to the settlement south of Queen's Crown Tower, then a slow a ride back with supplies.

 

 

Only six days into his absence, Sansa stood next to Dog and watched the stable as if she was waiting for it to explode. She held her breath and strained her ears to detect any sound from the inside.

 

 

After a few moments of silence Dog started to growl again. Sansa put a hand on his large boxy head and commanded him to silence. Once again she held her breath and strained to listen. In the forest next to her she heard the creak of the trees under the weight of the snow on their limbs. She heard the hiss of the wind blowing the fresh powder across the yard. Somewhere above a bird let out a call. 

 

 

For a moment she thought all was well, but then the familiar tapping started on the latched shutters of the stable windows. As quickly as it started, it was gone and Sansa began to doubt the sound had been real.

 

 

She let her shoulders sag and was about to go feed the chickens when a loud bang made her jump out of her skin. Even over Dog's resumed frenzied barking Sansa could hear the wood of the stable door groan as something from the inside shoved itself hard against the planks. 

 

 

Sansa regained control over her legs and ran back to the tower with Dog on her heels.

 

 

From the trees three sets of black almond shaped eyes watched as she entered the tower and slam the door behind her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meater than the last two, so please let me know if there are any typos.


	4. Chapter 4

 

_“… yet make it all seem mockery so none may say that the dwarf fears snarks and grumkins.”_

_-Varys A Clash of Kings_

 

“Are you unwell, mother?” asked Ned when she placed a bowl of porridge in his hands.

 

Sansa had moved her children up to their bedroom for the morning.  They needed the sunshine, but there was no way she was going to let them go outside. Not after what she had seen in the early morning light.

 

“I am well, my love,” she lied to her son. “It has just become so cold that I think it would be best to move the chickens up to the attic.” With the goats and sheep gone, the chickens were their last source of fresh meat. There would be a lot of eggs for supper in the future and hopefully the cockerel would do its job and expand their stock.

 

Sansa gathered her brood’s attention; “Dog and I are going to get the chickens. While we do that I need you three to play nice in this room.” Then added in that special tone all adults have that underlines their point; “Do I make myself clear?”

 

Two dark heads and one ginger bobbed in agreement and Sansa kissed them on the cheek before ordering Dog out in the hall, locking the door behind her.

 

The sunlight was strong on the yard when Sansa reemerged. Setting Dog to guard the entrance to the tower, she set about her task with singular determination.

 

The chicken coop was a small structure a few feet from the stable. Sansa never let her eyes wander from the boarded up door as she flipped the latch and stepped into the squat structure. She reemerged a short time later holding a squawking chicken by its legs. The animal made its displeasure known very nosily but the door to the stable stayed still.

 

The attic was a dusty place where raven’s once roosted when the Night’s Watched used the tower. Two years ago the roof to the chicken coop had caved in from the weight of a particularly heavy snow fall and they had housed the chickens on the raven perches till it could be fixed.  Now Sansa brought the chickens one by one up three flights of stairs to their  temporary home once again. The birds were not appreciative of their owners concern for their wellbeing and pecked her hands and arms while squirming and sending shit and feathers raining upon the stairs.

 

Once she was bandaged from the pecks and scratches inflicted by the ungrateful fowl, Sansa swept the mess out of tower. She changed out of the shit covered home spun dress and pulled on her fur lined breeches and hooded tunic.

 

When she checked on her children Sansa found them all sitting on the floor playing together as promised. Wood blocks where stacked into vestiges of towers and huts. Wooden knights and horses battled three large wood and leather dragons. Brie’s stuffed doll playing the part of a giant was kicking over the other toys.

 

 With every pregnancy, a trusted man from Last Hearth would bring a cart load of toys, fabric, and spices as well as wine and honey. Sansa and Sandor had taken to squirreling away as much of the luxurious items as they could and rationed them through out the year. Sandor once joked that perhaps they should start planning children in relation to how much pepper they had remaining  in the cold storage under the tower.

 

“My darlings,” Sansa called to her children. “I need to go cut some wood, so stay in here till I return and I shall make you warm milk with honey.”

 

The children tittered at the hope of such a treat and promised to be good till she returned.

 

** *

 

Sansa retrieved her small axe from under the stairs. Her eyes lingered on the massive wood axe Sandor used to fell trees and chewed the inside of her lip.

 

 _Three weeks and a month. Three weeks and a month and we will have enough apples and flour and syrup and turnips for a half a year._ _If Daemon proves himself, we could send him to visit Brienne and Tormund to see if they could give up one of their goats so we can have milk again._

Sansa took a deep breath and stepped outside commanding Dog to guard the entrance.

 

** *

 

When Sansa had arrived at the tower six years ago she could barely handle a hatchet. Now she could split the sections of logs Sandor had stacked across from the stable. 

 

The stable door stayed still as she rolled log after log to a short stump on the ground and set about splitting them down to a proper size for the hearth. She secretly hoped the _things_ in the wood were watching her swing the ax.

 

It was hard work and even with practice her back was going to ache by dinner. As much as she hated the smell she would have to get the children to rub a minty salve the Wildlings made in between her shoulders.

 

Even though the salve worked, the smell wouldn’t go away for days and it reminded her too much of Petyr’s breath on the back of her neck. 

 

Sansa shook her head; his obsession with her maidenhead did not sway him from inflicting himself on her in other ways. She had turned the tables on him in the end. She innocently read his correspondence as he held her in his lap and pilfered his desk while he slept finding his financial records and reports. Finally after months she had collected enough evidence of Litterfinger's scheming to take to the Lords Declarant. Sansa had started by revealing who she really was and wove a tale of how Petyr was plotting to steal the Vale from the Arryns. She told the story of how he took her from Kingslanding in order to steal her claim, killed her aunt, pressured the maester to give Sweet Robin lethal doses of sweet sleep and was embezzling money from the crown to earn allies in the Vale by lending money to houses indebted to the Iron Bank. She even handed over the hair net full of the strangler and convinced Lothor Brune to testify how he killed Ser Dontos on Littlefinger’s order.

 

The Vale leaders believed her, and in the resulting trial she watched with uncharacteristic glee Peytr’s humiliation as time after time his silver tongue failed to sway anyone. In the end he was executed for the death of her aunt Lysa. Sansa watched with a sense of satisfaction as he was lead to the overlook by the Gates of the Moon and shoved into the canyon when Sweet Robin screamed to make him fly.

 

Unfortunately, Sansa in her scheming had made a critical misstep; she as Sansa Stark was still married to Tyrion Lannister and even though it had been Littlefinger’s scheming that killed Joffrey, it was she who had carried the poison to the feast. Lady Waynwood had broken her betrothal immediately (Harry was heard ranting about Littlefinger trying to stick him with “the imp’s leavings”). Not wanting to draw the wrath of an increasingly unstable Cersei Lannister, the Lords of the Vale had locked her in a tower cell at the Gates of the Moon.

 

Then came the little bird with the proposal…..

 

Even almost ten years later Sansa found herself growing hot from the memory of the old rage and humiliation. She began hacking furiously at the wood in front of her till there was nothing left but kindling.

 

Blowing hot mist out of her mouth she waved the ax at the forest and screamed; _“Come out and face me! You don’t scare me! I’ve sent worse than you to the grave!”_

In her fury she stomped to the door of the stable and yelled into the wood; “You’re going to die in there _, you hear me!_ Slaughter my animals! Steal milk from my children! You’re going to stay in there till you are weak and starving then I’ll open the door and the last thing you will see is me _swinging this axe into your skull!”_

 

The thing inside stayed silent and feeling a small victory, Sansa turned back to her task till the sun dipped down below the trees.

 

 ** *

 

With all the wood stacked inside, Sansa stood in the doorway of the tower and surveyed the forest in the dying light. The trees creaked as the air became colder, a bird chirped up on a high branch and a squirrel chattered at an unknown intruder.

 

Satisfied, she closed the door and barred it shut.

 

“Children!” she called up the stairs. “Who wants to rub salve on Mother’s back?”

 

By the tree line three figures squatted on the darkened forest floor, watching and listening.

 

** *

 

After getting slathered in salve by three giggling children, Sansa had warmed the last of the milk with honey for them and fed them a dinner of chicken and tubers. Once the children had been dozing, she lifted the trap door to the cold storage and took stock of what they had left. A chunk of salt port, a bag of dried apples, a jar of honey and a half empty sack of porridge from Sandor’s last trip to the settlement outside of Queenscrown. There was also salted fish from the lake by Brienne and Tormund’s tower, smoked mutton from the last crop of lambs, and cured venison from when Sandor took Daemon hunting. As Sansa checked the spices, she found a skin of wine, long forgotten and dusty behind the shelf holding the salt.

 

Sansa opened the skin and sniffed the contents. The escaping vapor burned her nose, but the sweet honey undertone announced this was skin of Wildling mead. The stuff was good for treating sick sheep, polishing mail and making you forget how much pain you were in.

 

Sansa took a healthy drink and shook her head vigorously at the overpowering sweet taste that burned all the way down to her belly. After two more drinks she felt light and relaxed. She dropped the skin next to the salted pork and climbed up the ladder to the main floor. She closed the trapdoor carefully to keep from waking the children.

 

Sansa settled into Sandor’s oversized chair by the fire and watched her children sleep. The twins were curled up back to back as they always did and Brie was stretched out next to Dog who snored and drooled on the hearth rug.

 

The mead and the effects of the salve made her eyes droop and soon Sansa fell into a deep sleep.

 

She dreamed of Winterfell, Bran was grabbing her hand and pulling her through the hall ways. He didn’t say anything, merely smiled and led the way. Soon they found themselves in front of the great hearth, Old Nan sat before a group of children telling a story. Arya and Jon were in the front row, where Bran joined them.

 

Sansa folded her skirts under her knees and sat daintily on the floor. She tried to focus on the story but it was one of those nasty tales about monsters; something Sansa had no interest in. But not wanting to leave Bran she stayed.

 

“….they’re very clever, my poppets, they’ll watch and wait till the parents leave, then find a way in to get the little children….”

 

She let the words wash over her as she thought of a tale she had heard of a knight saving a beautiful Princess put into a magic sleep by an evil witch after  imprisoning her in a tower covered in roses and thorns.

 

“…their skin reflects like water so you can only see them when they move….”

 

It had been a lovely tale, the knight had hacked his way to the tower’s door with his magic blade.

 

“…their big black eyes can see in the dark, but they are blind where the sun shines on the ground….”

 

Then the evil witch appeared and changed into a dragon to stop the knight. The knight had heroically slayed her and reached the girl in her tower, waking her with a kiss.

 

“….you will know when they are close by the tapping and scratching of their long claws as they try to find a way in.  The only way to truly see them is by the shadow they cast from the flickering flames of a fire and the glittering of their big black eyes….”

 

**“Mother!”**

 

Sansa snorted herself awake to find Ned shaking her shoulder. Elinor was standing next to him holding Brie as the little girl whimpered with silent tears turning her big blue eyes red.

 

“What is wrong?” Sansa asked as she righted herself in the chair.

 

“Dog started growling,” Elinor whispered. “It scared Brie and now he won’t come over here.”

 

Dog was at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze fixed into the dark of the second floor.

 

Sansa hushed her brood to silence and strained her ears to listen for tapping. After a few breaths she embraced her children.

 

“We are safe in here, my loves,” she whispered into her daughter’s hair. “Father and Daemon will be home and we-“

 

From the bedroom above came the scream of sharp claws scraping across glass.


	5. Chapter 5

_“They speak of dragons….”_

_“and manticores, no doubt, and bearded snarks?”_

_Aurane Waters and Cersei Lannister A Feast for Crows._

 

 

 

 

The scream of hard nails on glass echoed through the tower for an innumerable amount of minutes. The children's screams added to the torture as Sansa tried to gather them to her in a vain attempt to comfort them. Taking a more direct action, Dog ran up the stairs and stood between the bedroom doors. As the things left the window in Sansa's bedroom to test the one in the children's room, so did Dog change the direction of his frenzied barking. He showed the doors his long white teeth and snarled daring the creatures to face him.

 

 

It must of worked, because the scratching ceased. The silence hummed in Sansa's ears as the only sound in tower was the heavy panting of Dog and the whimpers of her children.

 

 

Choking back the burning tears of frustration, Sansa caught her breath and made a decision.

 

 

Even though she didn't want to, Sansa gave her children small sips of the mead to calm them down. She told them to rest because they were going to go on a trip at first light.

 

 

“Where are we going?” Brie asked hugging her doll to her breast, her face red and her nose running.

 

 

“We are going to visit Aunt Brienne and Uncle Tormund my darling,” Sansa replied trying to keep the shaking out of her voice.

 

 

“But what about Father and Daemon?” her daughter asked with all the concern only a three year old could muster. “What will happen when they return and we’re not here?!”

 

 

Sansa knelt before her daughter and took her tiny hands in hers.

 

 

“They will know where we are my darling. Mother is going to send them a raven as soon as we get to Aunt Brienne’s tower. Do you remember Aunt Brienne? You were named after her, you know.”

 

 

The little girl shook her head fiercely making her red curls bounce.

 

 

Sansa kissed her daughter’s forehead.

 

 

“Go rest by the fire, my love, we leave as soon as the sun touches the roof."

 

 

Soon the children fell into a relaxed deep sleep. Sansa did fell guilty about drugging them with the mead, (it reminded her too much of Littlefinger's poisoning of Sweet Robin) but she need them rested.

 

 

It would be a half days ride on a good horse, less than a day for an adult on foot. Sansa estimated with Brie strapped to her chest in a sling and the twins carrying packs of clothes and food, they would make it to Brienne's tower by dusk. She didn't want to spend one more moment in the tower with three of those _things_ outside, but she also didn’t want to spend the night in the forest. If what Old Nan said was true, as long as they stuck to the sunny trail and open spaces, they should be safe.

 

 

Sansa busied herself packing food and supplies while her children dozed.

 

 

Dog sighed dramatically from his place by the hearth, exhausted by his duties.

 

 

“Don’t get used to being in here,” Sansa smiled. “You’re coming with us.”

 

 

Dawn couldn’t come fast enough.

 

 

** *

 

Only once she saw a grey light under the door to her room did Sansa enter to fetch the things she would need on the road.

 

 

The window was clouded with frost, but Sansa could clearly make out the long scratches scoring the glass in a crisscross pattern.

 

 

She wonder if she cleared the frost from the window if she would be able to see the foot prints in the snow showing were the creatures had retreated into the forest.

 

 

She forced the thought down, reminding herself that it had started snowing at sunset and any prints would have been covered. (Although she was more terrified if she looked out, she might come face to face with something looking _in_ ). Sansa turned to her trunk and pulled out her heaviest cloak and warmest mittens. From the weapons rack she spied the dirk Sandor had made for her when they had arrived at Castle Black so long ago.

 

 

As Sansa stood before the rack she could recall her husband’s voice clearly;

 

_“Sansa, pay attention!”_

 

_“I am” she had as she slipped her fingers into the waist band of his breeches and pulled him close._

 

_Sandor was not amused. But Sansa did not have the slightest interest in learning how to use a blade at that moment. She wanted him to lift her up on his cock and fuck her hard against the wall till the whole armory threaten to collapse._

 

_“Why do I have to learn this right now?” she smiled. “I am much more interested in seeing you use your sword.”_

 

_Sansa played with the laces of his breeches and pressed herself against him._

 

 

_He swatted her hands away._

 

_“I might not be around next time you are in trouble and then what? It was only by accident I was at Harrenhal. If I hadn't, how do you think Brienne and Pod would have fared against those sellswords? Hmm?”_

 

_Sansa was unwavering in her need and started unlacing the front of her tunic. She was still nursing Daemon and Sandor seemed to enjoy her swollen breasts as much as her son._

 

_“Do you think next time you need help another silver prince is going to fly down on his great dragon and save you like in some buggering story?”_

 

_Sansa wrinkled her face. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her fault Aegon had died._

 

_Sandor pulled her arm away from her tunic and put the dirk in her hand._

 

_“Now pay attention! This might save your life one day!”_

 

Sansa remembered she had dropped the blade on the stone floor and stomped off. She continued her little fit till Jon had intervened and convinced her to apologize to Sandor and the lessons resumed. Sandor never spoke of Sansa’s late husband again. Even when it become painfully clear Daemon was going to favor his father in build and temperament, Sandor treated the boy like he was his own.

 

 

Sansa was grateful for Sandor’s kindness and protectiveness towards her eldest son. Even after almost ten years she still had to bite her lip to keep from weeping when the memories of her marriage to Aegon floated to the forefront of her mind.

 

 

_Stupid, silly Sansa with a head full of stories and songs thought she was safe with her Dragon Prince._

 

 

** *

 

One morning while she awaited her fate in the tower cell at the Gates of the Moon, Sansa had awoken to find a strange small child standing before her door. He said nothing, just shoved a folded piece of paper through the bars.

 

 

Written with a loopy flourished hand the note read;

 

_My Dearest Princess of the North,_

_My little birds have sung that you are being held in a tower and are in need of rescue. The long lost son of Rhaegar Targayren and Elia Martell has returned to claim his throne. He is in need of a bride of a noble family to help reunite Westeros and usher in a new golden age. If you wish the Prince to come to rescue you from your current cage, just declare it to the walls and it shall be done._

 

 

It was not signed. At first she thought it was a trick as it reminded her of Ser Dontos’ note so long ago in Kingslanding. But the people of the Vale did not think in such complex schemes and she was desperate to escape Queen Cersei’s madness.

 

 

“Yes,” she had whispered and heard the patter of bare feet running away down the hall.

 

 

A fortnight later two men-at-arms opened Sansa's cell and dragged her down the stairs, to what she supposed was her execution. Instead she was brought to a large bedroom filled with an army of maids and a hot bath. The maids worked in a frenzy to scrub her clean, set her hair and dress her in what she guessed had been the gown and maiden's cloak Littlefinger had commissioned for her wedding to Harry.

 

 

She was placed in an open carriage and paraded through the streets thronged with silent people. As they got to the gates, she could see the great wings of a giant green beast crouching beyond the walls.

 

 

The carriage stopped just short of the gates where Nestor Royce helped her down. He kissed her forehead and whispered “May the Seven help you upon your way.”

 

 

Then he shoved her threw the gate and the portcullis slammed down behind her.

 

 

“That was a little over dramatic, don’t you think?” spoke a voice in front of her. "I told them they had till nightfall to hand you over before I burned the castle."

 

 

Sansa had been so distracted by the dragon, she had not noticed its rider. The man jumped gracefully from the dragon’s back and removed his helm letting silver hair spill down his shoulders.

 

 

To Sansa he was beautiful with his silver hair and amethyst eyes. His red and black armor made him look dashing and fierce.

 

 

_He is like someone out of a legend._

 

 

 “My lady Sansa, I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell," he said with a graceful bow. She curtsied before him, unsure what one was to say when meeting someone after being thrown out of a city.

 

 

Aegon seemed to have no such hesitation. He took her hand and kissed it with soft lips, then smiled; “ I see the rumors of your beauty do not do you justice.”

 

 

Sansa blushed; “I am afraid, my lord, that I know nothing of you.”

 

 

“All you need to know, my lady, is that your marriage to Lord Tyrion has been dissolved and I am here to take you to Harrenhal." He gestured to the great green dragon and exclaimed;  Climb on!”

 

 

Somehow she was pulled up on the dragon's back and wrapped her arms around his middle in a death grip as they took to the air. They had flown over the mountains and down into the Riverlands to Harrenhal. They were married upon arrival and spent the next fortnight locked in the lord’s chambers, laughing, talking, singing and coupling like wild rabbits.

 

 

For the first time in so long Sansa was happy. She finally got her song and her prince was beautiful and kind and smart. He never hit her or called her stupid. She was well protected by a the best soldiers the Golden Company had to offer. He always had her on his arm, even if the grand dresses she wore were made for the long dead Lady Whent. After a month, he turned to her and professed he had been apprehensive with the match at first, but had loved her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. She had reciprocated with a declaration of love and told him she would give him all the little princes and princesses he could ever wish for.  That had made him very happy.

 

 

Then came the day when he left to take Kingslanding. He had kissed her deeply and promised to return. He left with thousands of sellswords and his great dragon only to be burned up by Cersei with her wildfire.

 

 

Aegon had left Sansa with a battalion of the Golden Company for protection. But with their benefactor gone, some soldiers abounded their station even as her belly began to swell with a new prince.

 

 

Brienne had thankfully found her around this time and had sworn her sword to Sansa as she had once done for her lady mother. Sansa, fearful of the lack of loyalty in her late husband’s sellswords kept the Maid of Tarth close at all times.

 

 

Daenerys Targaryen made it clear that she blamed Aegon for the loss of one of her dragons and that she felt Sansa’s child was a threat to her claim. But with more pressing matters rising beyond the Wall, the Dragon Queen declared she would deal with Sansa and her child after she returned from battle.

 

 

A large chunk of the sellswords vanished into the mist to avoid the Dragon Queen as she marched north. The ones who stayed looked at Sansa with critical eyes; if the rumors of Aegon being a Blackfyre were true, then stealing her child across the Narrow sea till he was old enough to lead another rebellion was a possible plan of action.

 

 

When Daemon was born the resources and staff was so sparse at Harrenhal that Sansa ended up delivering her son with assistance from a healer traveling with a band of holy knights seeking shelter after the Iron Born sacked their sanctuary.

 

 

Sansa thought people should have rejoiced to see the little prince was healthy and strong, but the sellswords took one look at his dark hair and declared him a bastard and her a whore.

 

 

Sansa had tried to explain to them that Aegon’s mother was dark of hair as was her father, and that not all Targaryens had the silver hair. Yet they did not listen and began leaving in large groups to seek their fortunes elsewhere. The ones that stayed talked of selling Sansa and Daemon to a pleasure house in Volantis for a high price.

 

 

Sandor had revealed himself to her one night when she was at her lowest. He had pleaded for her forgiveness for his behavior on the night the Blackwater burned, then swore his sword to her and told her he would do anything she asked of him.

 

 

Sansa, having once again had her song turn into a nightmare, told him she wanted to go home. So he and Brienne took her North.

 

 

** *

 

Almost a decade later in her tower home, Sansa shook her head to clear out the memories. She reached out and touched the great sword Sandor had carried when he had escorted her North. It needed a new cross guard and the blade was nicked with spots of rust. Jon had given Sandor a new blade before they had left Castle Black, but for some reason he never got rid of his old sword.

 

 

To her it was a reminder of how he had saved her and she in turn came to love him.

 

 

Sansa moved her hand to the dirk Sandor had trained her with back in Castle Black. She grasped it by its well oiled leather handle and tested the edge. She had become quite adept with it over the years, even scoring a couple of hits on Sandor in close combat. She smiled and sheathed it on her belt.

 

 

The children's window was scratched worse than the one in her bedroom. Long gashes marred the surface till it was impossible to look through. The glass would not withhold another assault. Sansa briefly wondered what had stopped the _things_ from completely breaking through.

 

 

She hoped it had been Dog's barking, but didn't want to rely on that forever. Opening up the trunk sitting between the little beds, Sansa pulled out clothes for her children. The Wildling style fur lined breeches and hooded tunic would keep the twins warm and hopefully they were still light enough not to need snow shoes.

 

 

Sandor had taught her to survive, and survive she would.

 

 

She needed to get the children away as soon as possible.

 

 

** *

 

 

 “Wake up!” Sansa shook her son by the shoulder. “Wake up! It’s time to leave!”

 

 

Ned mumbled at her and Elinor gave her a groggy look of discontent. Both started to protest.

 

 

But once they saw the dishevel, sleep deprived state of their mother they went silent as she wrestled them into warm clothes and fur coats.

 

 

Not bothering to wake Brie, Sansa lifted the little girl into her arms and wrapped her up in a sling that hung around her chest.

 

 

Sansa stumbled around the main floor gathering packs and wrapping up meat and bread.

 

 

“Come on my wee ones, we shall break our fast when we get on the trail!”

 

 

The twins put their arms through the straps of their packs. Then stood by the door watching their mother slip on her snow shoes.

 

 

“We are going to be leaving to go to see aunt Brienne and uncle Tormund!” Sansa repeated like a litany or a prayer.

 

 

 The twins shift on their feet. Brie awaken by her mother's movements stayed silent.

 

 

“Are we ready?” Sansa asked a little shriller than she meant to and the twins nodded their heads; the whites of their wide, worried eyes peeping out of the shadows of their hoods.

 

 

Sansa called Dog to her side and pulled open the door with fingers trembling with exhaustion.

 

 

As soon as she saw what was beyond the door she let out a keening wail of pure frustration and helplessness.

 

 

The twins jumped away from the snow as it invaded the floor by the doorway.

 

 

With the windows on the second floor scratched and frosted Sansa could not have known how bad the storm had become. A drift of snow that towered over the twin's heads had formed against the tower. Out in the forest Sansa could see from the snow line of the trees that the powder would come up to her knees. It was still falling, drifting innocently, gathering on the ground, blocking their escape.

 

 

With only one set of snow shoes there would be no way they would make it to the path, let alone to Brienne’s tower before nightfall.

 

 

Standing next to her, Dog fixed his glare on something straight ahead and let out a low snarl. From the darkness of the trees Sansa saw something reflecting the light. She squinted into the gloom and felt her blood run cold; watching her and her children were three sets of liquid black eyes. The things were so close Sansa could make out thick, muscular bodies as they squatted on low hanging branches in the shadows of the tree line. In the silence of the falling snow she heard a familiar tapping noise and saw one of the things gripping the trunk if it's tree. Long fingers ending in hooked claws flexed against the bark. With a quick movement it dragged it's hand down the trunk slicing the bark to ribbons.

 

 

Sansa heard a whimpering from her feet. The twins had seen the monsters that were attacking their home. They trembled in fear letting out little cries of horror. Sansa sprung into action and attempted to slam the door shut. Unfortunately the invading snow had wedged it open.

 

 

 _"Help me close the door!"_ she screamed at the frozen twins.

 

 

The children threw themselves forward at the door. Sansa pulled Brie free from her sling and fell to her knees by the snow on the floor.

 

 

Using her hands Sansa shoved the snow back out into the courtyard. Out in the woods the tapping began anew, only this time she could hear it coming from all directions.

 

 

Finally the doorway was clear enough they could shove the door closed and bar it against the monsters.

 

 

Sansa sank to the floor and held her children close. Dog approached and licked frozen tears off her numb face.

 

 

This time there would be no prince to ride in on his great green dragon to save her and her guard dog was of the four legged variety.

 

 

With one arm around her children, she snaked her hand down to her dirk and gripped the handle.

 

 

Aegon had given her a song, but Sandor had given her steel. Of those gifts only one was going to keep her children alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know of any typos, thank you.


	6. Chapter 6

_"It is nothing," she tried to tell herself, "you are seeing grumpkins in the woodpile , you are becoming an old silly woman sick with grief and fear."_

 

 _-Catelyn Stark_ _A Storm of Swords._

 

 

 

 

The children were hysterical. They had seen the figures in the woods, knew they were dangerous and were wailing at their mother to protect them.

 

 

Sansa wrapped them up in a warm blanket and stoked the fire till it was blazing up the chimney.

 

 

With the warmth and light the children quieted down to hushed whimpering.

 

 

“Mother,” Ned whispered after a few moments. "I’m thirsty.”

 

 

Sansa took a deep breath and crawled her way to the bucket by the fire to see if there was any water left from the snow she had gathered the day before.

 

 

Two fingers of liquid sloshed at the bottom. Barely enough to fill a cup. She had planned on filling skins  for the trip with snow once they had been underway.

 

 

Sansa bit her lip and desperately tried to figure out how to get water without opening the door.

 

 

“Mother is going to have to get some snow to melt for water, my darlings,” she said softly. “We are going to play a little game; you children will hide in the cupboard under the stairs with the packs from the trip we did not take this morning. You will not come out till I tell you everything is clear, do you understand?”

 

 

Three heads bobbed in a terrified nod and they scampered to the cupboard slamming the door shut behind them.

 

 

Sansa set Dog to guard the children. Armed with a mug full of dried corn from the cold storage and two buckets she mounted the stairs to attic.

 

 

The chickens were still not happy with their new home and screeched their displease at her as she entered through the trap door.

 

 

Swatting away the angry fowl, Sansa tossed handfuls of corn on the floor and used the distraction to open a shuttered window. The tower attic had four windows, each facing a different direction so the raven keeper who once lived there could let the birds out in the direction of their destination.

 

 

Sitting on the sill facing north Sansa reached up carefully and scooped up the snow that had fallen on the roof. When she had two buckets full she carefully slipped back into the attic. Turning, she leaned out the window to observed the landscape.

 

 

The day was cloudy and grey. The snow had not stopped and had blanketed the forest as far as she could see.  In the distance she could barely make out a hazy outline of the top of the Wall.

 

 

Sansa studied the tree line. From this height the tree canopy obscured the forest floor. The green curtain maded the creatures she saw earlier undetectable unless they ventured into the courtyard. She spied the stable and let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. The boards were still in place and the shutters were undamaged.

 

 

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Sansa pushed herself away from the windowsill. She dusted her hands on her breeches and shuttered the window.  As she bent over to put up the buckets of slowly melting snow, she noticed a grey power on her breeches.

 

 

Looking her hands, she saw streaks of what appeared to be dust from fresh cut stone. Sansa puzzled over the powered for a few moments. A cold prickle of epiphany started at the back of her neck and slithered down her spine.

 

 

Slowly she turned to the window she had recently used to gather snow. With numb fingers she threw the shutters open and gazed down the side of the tower to the ground.

 

 

The cold of the stone burned her skin as she traced the claw marks that fanned out from all sides of the window. She examined with cold curiosity the grey stone dust that came off on her fingers when she touched the grooves.

 

 

Leaning back into the attic Sansa gently shut the wood shutters and latched them in place.

 

 

She examined the shutters; they were old and worn. Sandor had never bothered to replace them when they had taken up residency in the tower. Sansa traced the gaps in the wood were the cold and time had shrunken the boards so they were no longer flush.

 

 

The boards had been nailed together vertically, braced with a single wood support across the middle.  As she stared at the wood, details became clear; the middle support was freshly grooved, the boards were hardy but there were long fresh splinters jutting out of the wood in between the gaps. It looked like someone had shoved something between the boards in order to pry them loose.

 

 

Something sharp like a knife, or a dagger or a claw.

 

 

Just like the bark on the tree she had watched the _thing_ shred to ribbons. The hair stood up on the back on Sansa’s neck as she pivoted around to the other windows. Each one was splintered and scratched like the one before her. The one facing south was cocked at an odd angle, even though it was still latched.

 

 

Sansa felt dizzy. Her legs buckled and she landed hard on her knees on the dusty old wood floor.

 

_“….they’re very clever, my poppets, they’ll watch and wait till the parents leave, then find a way in to get the little children….”_

 

 

The bile crawled up her throat.  She looked around the room, as if a magic sword, or dragon prince, or even Sandor would appear to save her. She looked again in a desperate attempt to see anything to block the windows or wedge the trap door shut.

 

 

_“….you will know when they are close by the tapping and scratching of their long claws as they try to find a way in. “_

 

 

Sansa grasped her hair and pulled on it in frustration.

 

 

_“Do you think that the next time you’re in trouble some silver prince is going to fly down on his great dragon and save you like some buggering knight in a story?”_

 

She opened her mouth to scream, to cry, to wail, but all that came out was a low moan. She tipped over till her forehead touched the floor. She breathed in dust and bird dander feeling like the slightest push would blow her apart.

 

 

Sansa remembered the first time she felt this surrounded; she had been trapped in the Maiden Vault during the battle of the Blackwater watching Cersei get steadily drunker as the night wore on.

 

 

While the other highborn ladies huddled in groups praying and weeping, Cersei had taken it upon herself to imbibe Sansa with the truth of womanhood. The Queen had snarled at her as if she was as simple as Lollys Stokeworth;

 

 

_“You little fool. Tears are not a woman’s only weapon. You’ve got another one between your legs and you best learn how to use it.”_

 

The thought had made her sick; she was supposed to save that for her husband. The idea of giving it to anyone else was just wrong.

 

 

_“When Jaime was given his first sword there was none for me…. Jaime learned how to fight with sword and lance and mace, while I was taught to smile and sing and please….”_

 

 

A decade later, Sansa Stark kneeled on the attic floor of an abandoned Watch tower far from everything and everyone she had ever known. She breathed hard against the floor sending dust and chicken feathers flying in all directions.

 

 

_Women’s weapons…. No….Cunt and tears were a Lady's weapons._

 

And she was no longer a lady, she hadn't been for a long time. Her armor of pretty words and courtesies had rusted and fallen away. Her fingers were no longer thin and delicate, only good for writing pretty script and graceful gestures. Her hands were no longer soft and dainty fit only to weld a needle or eating knife. Her skin had hardened and was worn from years of labor in the cold air. She had callouses and scars. Her belly was striped with stretch marks from carrying her children. She had given up everything she thought made her who she was; the privilege that came with her birth, the respect that came with her name, and the worth that came with her claim.

 

 

Yet, Sansa still remained and had everything she ever wanted; a home, a husband, children.

 

 

Now she was but a woman and was no longer beholden to anyone’s stupid rules.

 

 

This new threat to her, to everything she loved was not Joffrey with his armored monsters coming to beat her or Petyr with his honey lies, minty kisses and roving hands, or the Golden Company slowly trickling away when they felt her worth was gone. There were true monsters outside and they couldn’t be fought with words or promises or gold. Only steel and will.

 

 

Sansa had been robbed of her ideals, her innocence, her song. She would not let _anything_ take her family or home.

 

 

She could slay these creatures, these monsters, these _things._

 

 

Rising gracefully from the floor, Sansa gathered up her precious water and climbed down the ladder to the second floor.


	7. Chapter 7

_“_ _Maybe he thought you were a grumkin”_

_“Oh gods… I supposed I do rather look like a grumkin. What does he do to snarks?”_

_“You don’t want to know.”_

_Jon Snow and Tyrion A Game of Thrones._

 

 

 

Sansa stood on the second floor and licked her dry lips and tried to calm herself.

 

 

_You have been through worse._

 

 

Setting the buckets on the floor, Sansa turned to her children’s room and locked the door. She spun around and entered into her own room. Ignoring the window, she went to the weapons rack and examined her husband’s old sword.

 

 

She had survived Kingslanding. She had survived Petyr. She had crossed half a kingdom with only the clothes on her back and a baby at her breast.

 

 

A little voice in the back of her head reminded her she had not been alone.

 

 

***

 

 

The flight North had been close to impossible. Brienne and Sandor kept them safe as the weather became worse and the dead began to stalk them from the trees. Brienne fought them with fire, Sandor with steel. Somehow they had survived them all.

 

 

It wasn’t the great feats of strength and prowess that endeared Sandor to her, but the little things that kept her and her son alive.

 

 

No one had told her what happens when you had a child. Sansa had been told repeatedly that having children was a privilege and a blessing with no other details or instructions. Later she would guess this was due to highborn ladies having wet nurses to feed the babies and change nappies.

 

 

Her lacking knowledge left Sansa confused and angry as she traversed the barren war torn country side, with raw bleeding nipples from nursing and skirts soiled from less than perfect nappy fastening skills.

 

 

Brienne and Pod had been dutiful,  never faltering in their loyalty and diligence. But neither had the least bit of experience with babes. Brienne had tried to offer assistance, but did not understand the basics of holding Daemon, let alone assisting Sansa with the basic functions of childcare.

 

 

Sandor had kept his distance. Other than the first night he managed to circumvent Brienne’s vigilance to reveal himself to her in her chambers in Harrenhal, he had made sure to never be alone with her or the babe. Even when they slept he made sure Brienne and Pod were between them. He never looked at Daemon if he could help it. He appeared to be impervious to the babe’s wailing that drove Brienne into helpless concern and Pod into agitation like a dog in a thunder storm.

 

 

Finally one afternoon after a fortnight on the road, soaked to the bone from the frozen rain that had fallen continuously since they left Harrenhal, Sansa broke.

 

 

Daemon had not stopped screaming from the cold since morning and Sansa had tried everything she knew; feeding him, bouncing him, changing his nappy (although they were becoming impossible to clean and dry in the cold wet weather) and singing to him. Nothing would sooth him.

 

 

With spit up in her hair, her dress in tatters, fingers and toes numb from the cold Sansa couldn’t find the energy to mount her horse after they stopped to rest. So she sat down in the mud and wept.

 

 

Brienne and Pod tried to rouse her with no luck. It wasn’t till she felt Sandor’s big hand on her shoulder, did she even look up. He had taken off his leather and mail he stood over her wearing just his jerkin. He took the wailing babe from her arms and cradled him to his chest. Daemon, warmed by Sandor’s body heat settled down and was finally quiet.

 

 

“You’re alright little bird,” Sandor rasped at her softly and pulled her up by her forearm.

 

 

Sansa attempted to dry her face with the sopping sleeve of her dress and mumbled a polite thank you.

 

 

He pulled her to her horse and she obediently climbed on.

 

 

Brienne and Pod stood thunderstruck for a few moments before Sandor snarled at them to get on their horses. Mounting up with one hand on the saddle, the other still cradling Daemon, Sandor rode behind Sansa all the way to their next campsite. He handed the babe back to her after she had dismount, then went to a nearby lake and broke the ice with a big rock to speared some fish for dinner.

 

 

That night he slept with his back to her. His body kept her warm and for the first time in what seemed like forever, both Sansa and Daemon slept through the night.

 

 

It was another fortnight before they would reach the Neck.

 

 

Anytime Daemon wailed from the cold or Sansa was too exhausted to carry him, Sandor would take the boy for a few hours so she could recover. Brienne and Pod never ceased to stare in wonder at the man thought to have raped and pillaged the Saltpans holding a fussy, colicky babe with no complaints.

 

 

(Sansa did have to remind herself Sandor had been around Joffrey as baby. Joffrey seemed like he would be the kind of babe who would cry over nothing and wait till someone tried to change his nappy to pee on them.)

 

 

Even with all the hardship they experienced, nothing compared with the devastating blow Ser Davos delivered when they met in Greywater watch.

 

 

As they attempted to cross the Neck, they were found by a band of crannogmen. Once Sansa convinced the men she was Ned Stark’s daughter, they were taken to Greywater watch were they were welcomed with open arms by her father’s trusted friend, Lord Howland Reed.

 

 

Unfortunately Lord Reed’s banner men were not so happy to house four people wanted by the Dragon Queen. So he sent word to Winterfell to inform Rickon that his sister was in need of help.

 

 

A week later Ser Davos arrived with bad news; the Dragon Queen, newly victorious in the War Beyond the Wall, was visiting Winterfell and made herself clear as what was to be done with Sansa Stark if she tried to return home.

 

 

Sansa remembered the moment she had felt her world fall apart. Brienne, Sandor, Pod and herself had been sitting in Howland Reed’s solar with Ser Davos.

 

 

Sansa had held baby Daemon to her chest and breathed deep; “So when will the Dragon Queen leave Winterfell?”

 

 

Ser Davos looked at her with kind eyes and leaned forward in his chair; “I don’t think you understand what I am saying m’lady. You cannot go back to Winterfell at all.”

 

 

Sansa had begun to shake. All she had wanted to do was go home. That had been all she wanted for since Joffrey had become King so many years ago.

 

 

“You and the wee baby, well, the Dragon Queen sees you as a threat to her rule. Not that I would think you would do anything, but she has stated to your brother’s advisors that if you do come back to Winterfell, she will take the child as a ward and marry you to a lord of her choosing.”

 

 

Sansa read between the lines; “She would hold us prisoner. She would lock my son away from me in Dragonstone and cage me with a Dornishman or one of those sellswords she made lords. Or even give me back to Tyrion.” 

 

 

_Or kill us. Feed us to her dragons like her father burned up my grandfather and uncle._

 

“And the company you keep will not be welcome in Winterfell either, m’lady,” Ser Davos said, his voice growing heavy with every word. “The Hound is still thought to be responsible for those massacres in the Riverlands, and it is said the Lady Brienne was the lover of the man who killed the Dragon Queen’s father. For all of you to come to Winterfell would be to ask the Dragon Queen to burn it to the ground.”

 

 

 “Does my brother understand all this? Has anyone told him I live? Does he know I want to come home?” Sansa asked as she felt the bile rise in her throat.

 

 

Ser Davos shook his head. “He was a wee lad when he went to live on Skagos, m’lady. He has very little memory of the time before the war. But telling him his sister is alive and wanted to come home would make things worse. He’s a head strong lad who was raised by men who settle disagreements with fists and knives. If you were to go to Winterfell, he would not hesitate to go to war to keep you there.”

 

 

“War is the last thing I would want to cause.” Sans replied. “Thank you ser for your information, you must excuse me, I must put my child down for his nap.” Then she rose and left.

 

In the hall outside the solar Sandor scooped up Daemon before Sansa could collapse. Brienne had caught her and carried her back to her room.

 

 

Deposited on her tiny bed in her tiny room, Sansa laid on her back watching the reflection of light off the water outside dance on the ceiling. Brienne exchanged looks with Sandor and left the room quietly closing the door behind her.

 

 

She had always been a good girl; she remembered her manners, used her courtesy as armor, and property as her shield. And what did it get her?

 

 

Sandor carried Daemon in and set the baby into the crib next to her bed. He said nothing, only sat on the floor by the door.  The ceiling was too low for him to stand comfortably.

 

 

They couldn’t stay here. Greywater Watch seemed ideal to hide in; it moved and was impossible to attack. Unless the lord wanted you to find it, it would vanish into the swamp.

 

 

Howland Reed had been more than accommodating. He gave them shelter for over a month and Sansa the assistance of a wet nurse (although she demanded to feed Daemon herself, she left the nappy changing to someone else). He did not ask questions about her traveling companions, although he advised Sandor to not wander past the rooms given to them as he was too conspicuous.

 

 

But they couldn’t stay there. Greywater Watch couldn’t run from the Dragon Queen forever and Sansa refused to let anyone die just for housing her or her son.

 

 

With Winterfell snatched away from her, Sansa felt the weight of her existence settle on her chest like a demon threatening to crush her ribs and steal her breath.

 

 

She couldn’t go home, she couldn’t secure a pardon for Sandor, and she couldn’t help Brienne fulfill her vow.

 

 

“I was raised to be a fool, wasn’t I?” she asked the air more than her shield. “I was raised to believe if I was obedient to my father, my septa and my husband I would reap the rewards of respect and children. That no one could hurt me if I stayed a maiden till marriage and then my lord husband would keep me safe from harm.”

 

 

Sandor snorted. Daemon cooed and reached for the brightly colored fabric flowers that hung over his crib.

 

 

Sansa closed her eyes and let the tears roll down the sides of her face and wet her hair.

 

 

“But that was a lie,” she whispered. “Even my mother’s life didn’t follow that.”

 

 

She sat up on her elbows and turned to Sandor; “I’ve had two Princes in my life. Most young girls dream of one, but I had two. The golden one took my family and dignity away from me, and the second took my home and identity. I cannot risk bringing the crown upon my family once again by returning home.  I can no longer be Lady Sansa of Winterfell. But then again when has being a lady done anything for me?”

 

 

She lay back down and stared at the ceiling, watching the light ripple, listening to her son being happier than she.

 

 

“Little bird?” Sandor whispered from his post at the wall. “Maybe it is time to ask your cousin for help.”

 

 

“Jon? Why would Jon help me? How he could possible help? The Nights Watch stays neutral in such things.”

 

 

“Because your father hid him from Robert for years and if what Howland Reed says is true about his birth, then the Dragon Queen will not cross him.”

 

 

Sansa’s heart hammered in her chest. It might work.

 

 

“What about you and Brienne?”

 

 

“As soon as you’re settled you can relieve her of her duties or keep her with you. “

 

 

“And you? Will you stay?”

 

 

“I cannot walk around Westeros with the price on my head from what that buggering bastard did in the Riverlands while wearing my helm,” Sandor let out a sigh and leaned his head against the wall. “I have been thinking on this since we arrived. If I take the Black no one can touch me. If your cousin hides you in Castle Black, at least I can be there to protect you.”

 

 

Sansa felt the tears come faster. “You would give up everything for me?”

 

 

“Sansa, I have nothing left but you.” In the silence between them Daemon giggled and squealed as he found if he shifted his weight to rock the cradle, the flowers danced above his head.

 

 

“And the boy,” Sandor chuckled. “I didn’t spend the last couple of weeks getting pissed on for fun.”

 

 

Sansa laugh at that.

 

 

"Will you stay with me?" she whispered, agast at her own forwardness. "Tonight I mean. I don't want to be alone."

 

 

Sandor watched her with wide eyes before replying, "Aye, little bird I will stay."

 

 

Around the hour of the wolf, when the castle finally slept, Sansa pulled him close.

 

 

“I am not an innocent maiden,” she had whispered to him the darkness as Daemon slept.

 

 

“I know,” he replied kneeling by the side of her bed. “Do not expect me to be a good man.”

 

 

 Sansa sat in front of him running her hands through his hair. She pulled his head into her lap and he let her run her hands across his scars.

 

 

“You’re better than most,” she replied. “You never hit me, never striped me….”

 

 

“I threatened you,” he wrapped his arms around her legs under her knees. “I scared you. I held my blade to your neck, twice. I took a song from you but it wasn’t the one I wanted….”

 

 

“No,” Sansa said softly into his ear. “No, you were but a verse in my song. You would never hurt me.”

 

 

“I wanted to….”

 

 

Sansa pressed her cheek against his and let out a long shaky breath.

 

 

“I’ve done things to survive I am not proud of,” she whispered. “I don’t need your pity, or yourself loathing or your regret. I need your strength and compassion, Sandor. Please, it’s the only thing I ask of you.”

 

 

Sansa pulled his chin up so he would face her as he had done so many times.

 

 

“Never ask me what I have done,” she said in a low voice. “And I will forgive you for things you have.”

 

 

She kissed him then and pulled him into her bed.

 

 

 ***

 

Howland Reed had agreed with the idea of going to the Wall and sent a raven on Sansa’s behalf.  Jon wrote back with approval and a simple plan; Sansa and her son would be housed at Castle Black till such time as Daemon could join the Night’s Watch. Brienne would assist with the Wildling resettlement. Podrick Payne and Sandor Clegane would be welcomed to take the black.

 

 

At least that was what they would tell the Dragon Queen.

 

 

When Jon’s steward, Satin arrived a month later, he brought with him a small band of Lord Umber’s men to escort them to the Wall. Sansa had almost broke down from relief. She was going to be safe at last.

 

 

It was during the trip North that Sansa began to feel emboldened to ignore the rules of propriety her septa and mother ingrained in her since she was old enough to listen. While housed in Greywater Watch they had kept their nightly visits a secret but every night on the road Sansa would unashamedly bed down with Sandor in the same tent. Interestingly enough, other than a few shocked faces the first time she took him by the hand and led him to bed, no one spoke against it.

 

 

They sheltered at Last Hearth for a fortnight before joining a supply train to Castle Black. Even though Greatjon grumbled over the match, he let Sansa marry Sandor in the godswood. Sansa eventually swayed him by pointing out that Sandor posed no threat to Rickon’s claim and their union would keep her from being forced into marriage with a Southern Lord by the Dragon Queen.

 

 

They stayed at Castle Black for a month before being moved to the old watch tower out in the Gift. Pod actually enjoyed being in the Night’s Watch. He became a steward and earned respect from his fellow men. Sandor on the other hand, helped Jon in the training yard, but the closest he got to taking the black was wearing the black cloak Jon gave him to keep warm. Brienne was courted and won over by a Wilding leader. (Although when Sansa coached Tormund in the ways of Southern courtship, the Wildling had misunderstood the concept of “beautiful plants and rare treats” and had presented Brienne with a small pine tree and a badger’s liver.)

 

 

Shortly after Sansa and Brienne left to resettle in their respective towers, Jon sent word to the Dragon Queen that Sansa Stark and her son Daemon Targaryen had passed away due to a fever shortly after arriving at the Wall. Their bodies would have been burned so no grave marker would have been necessary. Whether word of her death ever made it to Rickon, Sansa never knew and was glad of it.

 

 

Standing in front of her husband’s sword almost a decade later, Sansa felt a sense of pride of all she had weathered and survived.

 

 

Drawing strength from her past, her husband and her own steel will, she pulled the great sword from the rack and dragged it out into the hall. She returned to her room and pulled the large trunk full of clothes under the trap door. With much heaving, shoving and lite swearing she managed to turn the trunk on it’s side and jam the sword’s blade in between the ceiling and the trap door to the attic, wedging the door shut.

 

 

Feeling quiet proud of herself, Sansa locked the bedroom doors, scooped up the buckets of melting snow and headed down the stairs to release her children from their hiding place.

 

 ***

 

Later that night, while Sansa sharpened her ax and kept the fire roaring, her children seemed to relax.

 

 

“Mommy?” Elinor snuggled up to Sansa side and leaned her head against her arm.

 

 

Sansa stroked the dark hair of her daughter. The twins had been born in the tower. They had been to Brienne’s tower once and she doubted they even remembered it. Brie had never been more than a hundred meters outside the tower. This was the only home they have ever known. This was their world.

 

 

“I’m scared,” her daughter told her, grey eyes staring up at her. Sandor’s eyes. Her twins were already tall for their age, solid and strong. More than once she had found Sandor standing out in the yard watching his children run around like Wildlings with a look of wonder and pride on his ruined face.

 

 

Sansa held Elinor close and breathed in the scent of her hair.

 

 

“It is going to be alright, my darling,” she said. “I wont let anything hurt you.”

 

 

Ned was sitting next to Brie by the fire with Dog at their back.

 

 

“Tell us a story, mother,” he requested as he hugged his little sister. Brie wasn’t speaking, just holding her doll tight to her chest.

 

 

Sansa took a deep breath. Night was falling outside, it was only a matter of time before the _things_ broke in.

 

 

She was ready. She had formed a plan. She had sharpened her axe and dirk and stashed supplies and water for her children in case anything happened to her.

 

 

Sansa took a deep breath and began;

 

_Once upon a time there was little bird who lived in a castle in the north. Her family was full of wolves, but they still loved the little bird and loved to hear her sing her sweet song all throughout the castle. One day a golden lioness and her cub came to visit. The little bird fell in love with the cub and sang her sweet song for him. The little bird’s wolf father took her to the red castle where the lions lived and she was very happy._

 

_Then one day the golden cub became king over all the land. The first thing he did was beheaded the little bird’s wolf father and trap the little bird in a gilded cage. He and his lioness mother made the little bird sing her sweet song even as they killed her family and plucked her feathers out._

 

_Watching the little bird’s pain was a big black dog. He wanted to help the little bird, but the lions were his masters and he was angry and in pain._

 

_One night the big black dog came to the little bird and offered to take her away. But she was scared of his growling and snapping teeth and hid in her cage till he left._

 

_As time went on the golden King set the little bird aside and made a beautiful rose his queen. During the wedding a mockingbird landed on the little bird’s cage and told her he would take her home, but only if she promised to sing his song and only his song forever. The little bird agreed. The mocking bird opened the cage and they flew away together to live among the falcons._

 

 

_But the mockingbird’s song was sour and hurt the little bird’s throat. So she told the falcons what the song meant and they tore the mocking bird apart._

 

 

From the floor above came a tapping on the windows. The noise thundered through the cold still air of the tower.

 

 

_Before the falcons could turn on the little bird, a great silver dragon prince swooped down and took the little bird to his palace guarded by his golden army. They married and were very happy; they even had a little boy together._

 

 

The tapping stopped for a heartbeat only to be replaced with the high shrill scratching.

 

 

_Then one day the silver dragon prince flew away and never came back. Then his golden army left the little bird and her little dragon._

 

 

Sansa held her babies close. They had never known what it was like to live in a castle full of staff waiting on your every need. Never been helpless due to the forced ignorance of their social standing.  She and Sandor never coddled their children, never told them they had duties over their happiness. No one had ever told Elinor that her manners would protect her. Brie was not raised to believe her worth was between her legs.

 

 

They were free. They had been born from a union of two people in love, not out of duty for the sake of carrying on a name.

 

 

They weren’t Starks, they weren’t Cleganes, but they were hers and gods be damned if _anything_ should try and take them from her.

 

 

_The little bird made some new friends, a giant woman and a small boy helped her when the golden army left._

 

 

From above the scratching on the windows above stopped leaving a deafening silence.

 

 

_And out of the mist came the big black dog. He laid down at the little bird’s feet and asked her to be his master._

 

 

Then there was a shriek of braking glass and the sound of something landing on the floor. A loud banging echoed though the tower as the things threw themselves at the bedroom doors.

 

 

Sansa breathed but dog jumped up, every hair on end. The children began to shake and whimper.

 

 

_But the little bird just wanted a home. So she told the big black dog she didn’t want to be his master, she wanted to be his wife._

 

From upstairs the thumping stopped. Sansa felt her children shaking harder. Brie began to whine.

 

 

_And so the big black dog lost all his fur and stood up on two legs, and the little bird shook off her feathers and bent her wings into arms._

 

From way up in the attic there was a crash, followed by the sound of scraping on the ceiling.

 

 

_And the big black dog took the little bird’s dragon child and brushed off his scales and held him to his chest to make him his own._

 

There was a sickening crunch and a loud clatter as the trap door broke open and Sandor’s sword fell to the floor.

 

_And the little bird and the big black moved into their own tower and had three beautiful children._

 

Sansa stood and shoved the children under the stairs.

 

 

“I love all three of you more than anything and would die for you! But it will not be today!”

 

 

Dog pulled his lips back in a viscous snarl showing his long white teeth to the three sets of liquid black eyes that stared down on them from the landing.

 

 

Sansa stood behind Dog with her dirk at her side and her axe in her hands.

 

 

_“I am Sansa , this is my house and I will send you back to the hell you crawled out of before I’ll let you touch my children!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some RL stuff going on right now so my proof reading is worse than usual. Please point out any errors.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very difficult to write. I can't tell if I made it not scary enough, or too scary. Let me know!

_His jokes of grumkin and snarks no longer seemed quite so droll”_

 

-Tyrion A Game of Thrones

 

 

 

 

The flickering light of the fire in the hearth wasn’t enough to illuminate the top of the stairs, but Sansa could make out three of the _things_. Their eyes shimmered like dark water as they jerked their heads back and forth. They watched her, then Dog, then craned their spiny necks down towards the noise of the whimpering children beneath the stairs.

 

 

 

Sansa braced herself for the creatures to charge, but it was Dog who moved first. With a snarling bark he threw himself up the stairs, fur swirling and mouth open showing the long teeth in his powerful jaws.

 

 

 _“No!"_  

 

Her scream was unheeded as Dog drove the creatures back up the stairs. From the blackness of the landing Sansa could hear a struggle. Even with Dog’s snarling and barking she could hear the scrapping of the creature’s claws on the floor as they danced around her guardian.

 

 

Suddenly Dog’s barking changed to a high pitch whimper, then silence.  Sansa strained her ears, her breath roaring in the silence, as she stared up into the gloom at the top of the stairs.

 

 

“Mother?”

 

 

Sansa spun to see her children peaking from around the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

 

 

_“Get back in-“_

 

 

A loud thumping noise came from the second floor. Something large came rolling down the stairs and landed with a thump in front of Sansa. She knelt down next to Dog’s body; he was bleeding from dozens of scratches, his mouth was open and some of his teeth were broken and cracked.

 

 

Brie’s high pitch scream made her whirl around.

 

 

The little girl was backing away from the cupboard, pointing, eyes wide with horror. Ned was on the ground staring into the gloom his face frozen in a silent scream.

 

 

Sansa ran to stand between her son and the cupboard, peering into the darkness.

 

 

Standing in the middle of the cupboard was Elinor; her back stiff, lips trembling, fat tears streaming down her face.

 

 

Sansa felt the bile rise in her throat; they had used her distraction with Dog to get to her children.

 

 

Sansa looked to her mewing daughter. From the shadows a small hand with long dark fingers was tangled in her hair. Tears glittered down Elinor’s face and Sansa could hear a splashing noise as her daughter lost her bladder.  Beyond the arm, she saw an elongated head with smooth skin; the shadows made the skin ripple in the light from the fire. The almond shaped eyes glittered like molten silver.  Sansa dropped her ax on the floor.

 

 

“Ned?” she whispered.

 

 

“Mother?” came a sob from behind her.

 

 

“Take your sister and hide in the cold storage,” Sansa ordered as her hand snaked to her dirk.

 

 

“Yes, mother.”

 

 

Elinor screamed as the creature jerked on her hair dragging her back into the shadows. Sansa sprung forward, raising the dirk over her head she hacked at the creatures arm. the thing let out a piercing shriek but did not loosen it's fingers from her daughter's hair.

 

 

Sansa screamed and cursed, as she hacked at the hand in her daughter’s hair over and over, cutting through its flesh and bone. Elinor was hysterical in fright; the pain from the hand of the monster in her hair was almost as bad as the flash of her mother’s blade so near her head.

 

 

The monster lashed out at Sansa with it's other hand; long fingers ending in sharp claws flashed inches from her nose. Still, she never hesitated in her attack. She slashing and stabbing as the creature squirmed and thrashed spraying both of them with blood. Sansa twisted to avoid another swipe, then twisted back around and jammed her dirk into the _thing’s_ neck with a satisfying crunch.

 

 

Elinor lay frozen next to where Sansa knelt.  Sansa reached out to her daughter, but the little girl’s arm shot up, pointing to the wall behind her mother’s head.

 

 

Sansa turned to see another creature hanging off the wall a few feet from where she knelt. Its skin blended into the stone, but it still cast a sharp shadow from the light in the hearth. Before she could move, the creature leapt and landed on Sansa’s back. Its weight drove her to the stone floor and knocked the breath from her body.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ned shooting forward and tugged his twin away from the fray.

 

 

Sansa could feel the sharp claws of the creature’s feet digging into her back as it tried to claw its way through her hair to get to the base of her neck. She struggled to push herself up, but opted instead to roll over and attempt to pin the _thing_ to the ground. It leapt off her back when it felt her shift her weight and landed a few feet away with a screeching cry.

 

 

Sansa felt something cold at the small of her back and snaked her hand underneath to find the handle of her ax. Never taking her eyes off the creature in front of her, Sansa pulled herself to her feet. The ax felt like it weighted a ton, her back screaming with pain from the cuts left by the creature’s claws. To her right she heard the trap door to the cold storage slam shut.

 

 

_Two… there are two of those things left! Where the fuck is the second?_

 

A flash of movement by the door caught her eye. The second she broke eye contact the creature sprung at her, claws out.

 

 

Only this time Sansa was ready.

 

 

A split second before it was on her; she swung the ax in a graceful arch and caught the creature in the side.

 

 

Unfortunately the scratches on her back lessened the strength behind her blow and she only managed to wound it instead of cleaving it in half. The creature was thrown against the wall by the hearth, a gaping wound in its side.

 

 

Sansa was standing over it in moments as it writhed on the floor. She ignored the pain and wetness running down her back as she raised her ax above her head. But before she could swing the ax down something heavy landed on her chest.

 

 

Sansa dropped her axe and threw her hands in front of her to fight off the flaying claws and snapping teeth of the third creature. It screeched at her, its mouth snapping rows of small sharp teeth at her face as they wrestled on the floor. Sansa managed to grasp an arm in each hand, pushing the sharp claws away from her body. Her shoulders were screaming at her and her grip was weakening against the uninjured, kicking, screeching _thing_. It's skin was covered in tiny barbs that dug into her skin where she held on.

 

 

_No… no… no not like this…. Our children, Sandor, all our sweet babes…. They won’t make it without me…._

 

Then she smelled it; the hearth. The fire had died down somewhat but it still glowed hot and bright. Bracing a foot on the floor, Sansa rolled herself on top of the struggling creature, slamming it as hard as she could against the stone. Momentarily dazed, the creature went limp. Sansa pinned its arms to its side and shoved it head first into the fire. The thing let out an inhuman and deafening scream as the flames licked at its head and shoulders. Sansa held it tight. The tiny barbs on it's skin dug into her palm, but she never loosed her grip, even when the blood began to flow under her fingers.

 

 

The thing wailed even as it’s flesh bubbled on its bones and the smell of burning feathers filled her nostrils. Blisters formed and burst on the back of her hands as the heat licked at her.

 

 

Just when it was finally going lip, Sansa’s sight exploded into red.

 

 

Her scream of pain was answered by the creature she had left wounded in the corner. It had jumped onto her shoulders and was attempting to rake its claws across her face again. She shook herself and it fell forward digging it’s claws into her scalp.

 

 

Before she could react, something huge and heavy rolled her onto her back taking the creature with it.

 

 

Her head hit the floor of the hearth hard and for a moment the world swam. Then she heard screaming and growling and then a satisfying crunch.

 

 

Sansa blinked twice to make sure she could still see. Then the smell of burnt hair filled her nostrils.

 

 

_No! Not my hair, Sandor loves my hair!_

 

Sitting up Sansa grasped the burnt end of her hair from the fire and looked out into the room.

 

 

Dog, bloody and battered, was ripping apart the thing that had been on her back.

 

 

“Good boy,” Sansa whispered as she tried to drag herself away from the hearth. She came to rest curled up on the rug, her burnt hands cradled to her chest. Dog, finished with his prey trotted to her side and licked the blood dripping down her face from the long scratches.

 

 

_Our babes Sandor….. I did it….._

 

Sansa let out a shaky breath and licked her dry lips. She thought she heard whispering from the direction of the trap door to the cold storage, but she was far too weak to move.

 

 

** *

 

 

Sansa didn’t know how long she lay on the hearth rug when the front door opened. The sounds of the room came from a long way off. She thought she could hear Dog’s barking as people talked around her.

 

 

 It wasn’t till she heard her children scream for help that she attempted to sit up, only to have a large hand stay her movements. 

 

 

She rolled onto her back. Her eyes barely focusing, she made out a huge person with light hair crouching over her.

 

 

  _I did it…. Sandor….. I did it_


	9. Chapter 9

_“This wide world is full of such tales. Grumkins and snarks, ghosts, mermaids, rock goblins, winged horses winged pigs… winged lions”_

_Tyrion A Dance with Dragons_

 

 

 

The pain dragged her into consciousness hours later.

 

 

“My lady, please do not try to move.”

 

 

Sansa had to concentrate on opening her eyes. The skin on her face felt tight. Her hands and back were afire with agony.

 

 

Brienne’s face swam into view. As always she looked upon Sansa with an expression of kind concern.

 

 

Sansa found she was in her own bed. Her hands were wrapped in linen bandages. A fire burned in the bedroom's hearth. The broken window had been boarded up.

 

 

“Water,” Sansa whispered.

 

 

Brienne helped her to sit up then held a clay mug full of water to her parched lips.

 

 

“Sip it slow,” she told her as Sansa drained the cup.

 

 

Sansa attempted to touch her face with her bandaged hands and winced at the pain.

 

 

“Am I as scarred as my husband?” she asked trying to keep her voice light.

 

 

Brienne chuckled and pointed at her own scarred cheek; “We don’t quite match. But I doubt anyone will recognize you by sight now.”

 

 

Sansa smiled weakly.

 

 

“How did you know to come here?” she asked.

 

 

Brienne sat on the side of the bed and placed a cool cloth on her forehead.

 

 

“Your husband sent a raven,” Brienne said. “Apparently on their first night in Queen's Crown Tower Daemon started having nightmares and demanded to return. Clegane asked us to check on you to reassure your son.”

 

 

Sansa breathed hard through her nose in a vain attempt to keep the tears at bay. The salt stung her scratches and wet her pillow.

 

 

Brienne took the cloth from her forehead and gently dabbed at her tears.

 

 

“My children,” Sansa’s voice trembled. “Where are my children?”

 

 

“They are asleep next door,” Brienne reassured. “I could go bring them in here if you would wish it, my lady.”

 

 

Sansa shook her head, “Who is with them?”

 

 

“Your great beast of a dog and a young Wildling named Feather,” Brienne sighed. “She and her family have been staying with Tormund and I. I brought her along to help if needed; she is knowledgeable in herb lore and is quite adept with a spear.”

 

 

Brienne leaned over and took a small clay mug off the bedside table.

 

 

“Drink this, Feather said it will help with the pain.”

 

 

Sansa sipped the hot beverage.

 

 

“My thanks,” she whispered as she felt her head swim.

 

 

“We arrived around midday to find you bleeding and burnt on the hearth rug and your children cowering in the cold storage,” Brienne said bewildered. “Can you tell me what happened? It looked like an animal had been at your dog! All the chickens in your roost have been torn to bits! Did a shadow cat get in? Or was it raiders?”

 

 

Sansa shook her head, but could not find the words to speak as the herbal drink made her tongue feel like it was made out of lead.

 

 

Brienne sighed and refreshed the cloth with water from a nearby bucket.

 

 

“It is late, I am sure you can tell me everything in the morning.”

 

 

Sansa nodded. They were safe now, she could sleep.

 

 

Brienne stood and went to stoke the fire.

 

 

“Have no worry about Feather,” she said over her shoulder. “She has refused to leave your children’s side since we arrived. She’s even insisted on sleeping on their floor with her spear. The children seem to be quite taken with her.”

 

 

Sansa smiled a little and let her eyes droop.

 

 

“Strange thing though,” Brienne continued. “After I stabled the horses, Feather told me we should leave at first light and take you and the children back with us. She said she had been talking to the children and they said some kind of demon from the woods had gotten in the house.”

 

 

Sansa’s blood ran with ice water.

 

 

“Stable?” she whispered.

 

 

“Oh yes, I am sorry my lady. I saw you had it board up while Clegane was away, but we needed the planks and nails to cover the broken windows in here and unfortunately my horse does not do well out in the woods like those Wildling ponies.”

 

 

_No….. no…… no…..no…._

 

Brienne was speaking again but Sansa couldn't hear her. She was forcing her head to swivel around to take in the room; ears straining for any tapping or scratching, eyes straining to focus at the shadows for any oddity in the light.

 

 

As the big woman straightened up from tending the fire, Sansa saw it. Over Brienne’s shoulder up in the corner where the wall met the ceiling Sansa could see the glittering of liquid eyes and the rippling of skin shifting color to match the hue of the flickering fire light.

 

 

“Forest demons! Really, the stories those Wildlings have. You should hear Tormund go on; you would think we were knee deep in snarks and grumpkins! Surely my lady, you do not believe such things exist?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

_“In Old Nan’s stories about men who were given magic wishes by a grumkin, you had to be especially careful with the third wish, because it was the last.”_

 

_Arya, A Clash of Kings._

 

 

 

Sandor awoke when the first rays of morning light peaked in between the slates of his shuttered window in Queen’s Crown Tower.

 

 

The warm body curled up next to him wasn’t his little bird, but her son. Daemon had been fine on the ride to the tower. The boy had taken to every task with a fevered zeal; whether it was gathering wood, polishing Sandor’s armor, or even setting snares, Daemon was on it before Sandor could tell him. It was as if for the first time in his life, Sandor had a competent squire.

 

 

Then the first night they arrived in Queen’s Crown Tower, the boy had awoken screaming and hysterical. Unable to speak as to what was giving him nightmares, he began to beg Sandor to take him home. At first Sandor believed it was the anxiety of being around so many people that disturbed Daemon’s sleep. After all, Daemon had no memory of his life before they came to live in the tower, so it stood to reason he would find the crowds around Queen’s Crown disconcerting. But during the waking hours, the boy was sleepy but still managed to execute his duties and appeared to be very sociable.  

 

 

At night, Daemon would start out in his own bed in the next room, but Sandor would awake in the morning to find the boy curled up next to him. This was bewildering to Sandor as Daemon was the most independent of their children. As soon as he could, Daemon had demanded Sandor build him his own bed and took to having his own room to the point he didn’t want to share with the twins when they came along.

 

 

 In hopes of pacifying the boy’s fear, Sandor had sent a raven home and then one to Brienne and Tormund's tower. He figured even if everything was fine, at least a visit from Brienne would be good for Sansa.

 

 

The boy stirred as Sandor sat up.

 

 

“Father?" Daemon looked up at him with his big amethyst eyes.  Sandor was the only father the boy had ever known and he loved him with all his heart, but it still felt strange sometimes to be addressed as such.

 

 

"Do you think we’ll hear from mother today?”

 

 

 _I bloody well hope so._ It had been a week since Sandor had sent the ravens, and waiting for a reply had made them overdue at Castle Black. The Lord Commander had been understanding, but even Jon had his limits. Waiting for a raven to soothe a 9 year old boy’s fear was a weak excuse for not being prompt when summoned.

 

 

“We shall see, Daemon,” his voice scratchy with sleep. “You should go get ready for the day.”

 

 

The boy crawled out of bed and made his way back to his room.

 

 

Sandor rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

 

 

_Please little bird, let us know you're alright._

 

 

***

 

 

It wasn’t the maester who found them at midday, but Tormund. The Wildling was filthy and road wary when he slammed his way into the great hall and all but ran to where they sat eating lunch.

 

 

Sandor was taken aback; Tormund had already passed through Queen’s Crown Tower on his way to Castle Black when they had arrived. Now he sat down hard on the bench next to Daemon. His red hair was wild and dark circles were under his eyes.

 

 

“Finish your meals, grab your supplies, we leave in an hour,” the Wilding announced without so much as a greeting.

 

 

“It is good to see you as well, Tormund,” rasped Sandor with a scowl on his face. “Commander Snow said we could meet the convoy halfway since we had business detain us here. You remember my son Daemon, don’t you?”

 

 

Tormund turned to the boy and ruffled his hair.

 

 

 “Go get the horses ready, lad,” he said then shoved him off the bench.

 

 

Daemon looked to Sandor who nodded. The boy stole a roll and slowly made his way out of the hall, looking over his shoulder in hopes of being called back.

 

 

Sandor put down his knife and looked Tormund in the eye; “You want to tell me what is going on?”

 

 

Tormund handed him a roll of parchment.

 

 

“When I got to Castle Black, there was a raven waiting,” the man said with something simmering under his voice. “Brienne sent it. Lord Crow, says you don’t have to meet the convoy.”

 

 

The parchment was well worn as if it had been handled many times. Sandor unrolled it and read;

 

 

**Demons in the forest.  Visiting tower breached. Have lost both horses and all ravens but this one.  Going to try to return with the mother and children. COME HOME! COME HOME! COME HOME!**

 

 

Sandor’s brow furrowed, “What in the seven hells is going on?”

 

 

Tormund shook his head.

 

 

“How you southern benders managed to build that big fucking wall without trapping your cocks in the ice is beyond me.”

 

 

He snatched the paper from Sandor and stood.

 

 

“Your home has been destroyed by the forest demons. Now my wife is making a run for our tower with your family."

 

 

Sandor sat still for a moment before bellowing; _"Forest demons?"_

 

 

Tormund gave him an incredulous look;" _Yes_ , demons who live in the forest. Surely you knew they exist?”

 

 

***

 

 

From it's perch on the bough of a fir tree the creature watched them try to make their way in the deep snow. Their large beasts had been torn apart and consumed the night before so the group was on foot.

 

 

Clumsy and weighed down they would be easy prey come nightfall.

 

 

The largest of them carried a sword splattered with the blood of those who had tried to attack them in their home. The mother carried the smallest child, a long blade covered in dry blood hung from her belt. Behind her wading in the snow were two more children and another woman with a spear, dried blood on the staff. A large four legged wolf-like creature ran beside them, but it was wounded and slow.

 

 

“ _The light!”_ the one with the spear screamed. “ _Stay in the sunlight! They cannot see in the light!”_

 

 

Obeying the order, the group vanished into the pools of sunlight that dotted the path.

 

 

The creature tapped its long claws against the tree trunk, the sound echoed into the snow muffled forest.

 

 

The harsh sound of claws on wood replied from all directions. It watched the group freeze as they listened to the chorus of creatures around them. The youngest of the children let out a high pitch wail.

 

 

 _“Move!”_ screamed the mother and the group attempted to move faster down the snowy path.

 

 

The creature craned its neck and watched the dark branches of the nearby trees. Others like it returned the stare from their perches before returning their focus to the slow moving group as they stumbled from sun to shade.

 

 

The wolf-like creature stopped and watched the trees for a second before letting out a long howl. It turned back to its masters and looped after them.

 

 

The creatures were patient . It would just be matter of time before the darkness of the forest closed in on the small group and in the gloom the creatures crept closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank every single one of you who made it to the end! 
> 
> If you liked this story, please remember it come September/October when people start getting into the horror/Halloween mood and recommend it.


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